


What Comes After

by unilocular



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:09:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unilocular/pseuds/unilocular
Summary: When Tony walked away from NCIS, he was convinced he couldn't have it all. But when an ordinary trip to the mall with Tim and Tali turns into anything but, Tony realizes he might just be wrong. Set three months post Family First (13x24). Tim and Tony friendship. Mentions of past Tiva.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Big Bang Challenge on LJ.
> 
> I have nothing but gratitude to rose_malmaison for her hard work at putting together a beautiful piece of art for my story. I've been a huge fan of her stories and art for quite some time, so I was honored to finally have her create a few pieces for one of my stories. It's uncanny how she managed to distill my long story down into a few pictures. I couldn't have imagined anything more perfect to fit my work. If you haven't already, please check out her other artwork/stories on Livejournal ( http://rose-malmaison.livejournal.com )!
> 
> And as always, a huge thanks to solariana for all of her hard work to organize this challenge every year. Without her challenge, this story would likely never have some to pass.
> 
> It's my take on what happened after Tony walked away from NCIS at the end of last season. The way the show treated his departure just never sat right with me, so I attempted to figure out where I think he should've ended up. Hopefully, you enjoy reading my fanon as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 

Shopping malls were once a place that Tony DiNozzo never had the time, nor the patience to visit. He would often drive past one on the way home from work and wonder how people could spend hours mindlessly wandering the halls.

But ever since he was thrust into the role of a single dad to a toddler full of Hebrew hellfire, he finds a surprising comradery with the other lost souls in the mall. Their blank faces and world-weary eyes—from young mothers begging their children to _please just behave_ to the elderly speedwalkers to the scantily clad teenagers—mirror what he feels in his own soul.

Desperation.

Maybe it’s the sleepless nights where he cuddles a stranger to his chest while she screams and cries and begs for her mother in a language that he will never understand. Or perhaps it’s from trying to play catch-up and learn how to be a father when he has no idea what the hell he is doing. No matter what the books say, he is pretty sure that everything is wrong and that he will screw up this little girl for life.

But none of that matters when they are doing laps in the mall. Doing laps past stores that are caught somewhere between the world of women’s fashion and teen boys’ wet dreams. 

At the mall, they are just Tony and Tali. Here, they are no longer two survivors lost at sea with no hope of rescue. To the untrained eye, they’re father and daughter sharing a beautiful day together.

Tony traces the familiar course through the parking garage to the mall entrance. Outside, the air is sweltering for an early September afternoon since the summer humidity hasn’t released its stranglehold yet. The sun hangs high overhead, beating them to sweaty pulps without even raising a finger.

In her stroller, Tali relaxes for the first time since they left yesterday. She seems to have grown accustomed to their daily routine: hurl breakfast on the floor while screaming her head off, go to the mall for a few laps before passing out in the food court where Tony finally gets to eat _something_.  

They’re nearly inside when an elderly woman with a blue bouffant and a mad scientist grin holds the door open for them. Her hunched, gnarled body blocks Tony’s path. He debates about squashing her with the stroller’s monster truck tires.

“Nice to see a father spend some time with his little girl for a change.” Her voice is raspy with a smoker’s draw. “Most men these days can’t be bothered with their young ‘ins.”

Tony forces a smile to his exhausted face. “Yeah, I’m getting her started early on shopping.”

The woman barely needs to bend down to peer into the stroller. Glancing up with wide eyes, Tali hurls a half-eaten cracker directly at the woman’s face. It gets swallowed by her hair and she makes no motion to remove it. All Tony has to offer is an apologetic grimace.

“Real pistol you’ve got there,” she says.

“You have no idea.” He gestures towards the mall. “Thanks for holding the door.”

When he starts to maneuver the stroller around her, she ducks into his way again. He decides running over would probably set a bad example for Tali. She moves into his path again and he wiggles the stroller as best he can between her and the wall.

Tony’s phone rings. He ignores it.

“You know, I see you around here a lot,” the woman says, trailing him.

Tony shrugs. “My daughter likes the mall.”

She wraps her skeletal hand around his upper arm. Her nails dig into the flesh underneath his t-shirt as though she could suck the life from his body.

“No,” she says, “I mean I _only_ see _you_.”

He stops dead, staring at the people lazily mulling around inside. They meander without a care, wrapped up in their phones and conversations and purchases. How he wishes that he could be like them. To know what it feels like for the worst thing in the world is buying the wrong size shirt.

But he doesn’t get the chance. This conversation is headed at break-neck speed to the place where they always end up. In that heaping pile of emotional shit he’ll never be able to escape.

“I never see the little girl’s mother,” the woman says flatly. “Where is she?”

_Like it’s any of your G-damed business…_

“No longer with us,” Tony replies. He never can bring himself to say the word _dead._

The woman clucks her tongue. “What a shame to miss out on her little girl’s life.”

Closing his eyes, Tony clenches his teeth. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly how she planned it.”

At that moment, the woman’s eyes go wide like she finally understands why a man goes to the mall every day with his daughter. Like she finally understands why a mother would leave her little girl behind. Without saying a word, the woman scurries out into the oppressive summer heat.

_Good riddance._

Tony lingers in the entrance like a lost ghost, uncertain as to whether he should try to pretend that to be a member of the living or to retreat back to his lifeless apartment. Tali thrashes against the stroller restraints, shaking the tray table like a miniature earthquake.  

“Abba!” she howls. “We shop! We shop now!”

Certain another one of her famous meltdowns is looming, Tony bends to her will. He dives headlong into the twirling carousel of shoppers. Teenagers with green and blue and pink hair and every shade in between play on their cell phones, laughing and gasping as they let each other into their virtual worlds. Couples walk hand-in-hand as they stand by store windows dreaming of what they’ll buy for their lives together. Exasperated parents yell at their children for going against the flow of traffic.

Just another Sunday, here at the mall.

Tali stares up at them, awestruck by a world that she’ll never get a chance to experience.

“Abba, look,” she murmurs, over and over.

And Tony does, feeling even more isolated in their own little world.

But he doesn’t come here for himself. He comes here for Tali.

Because the sights, sounds, and smells make her smile in the same way as when someone accidently mentions her mother. It’s the same smile that lasts only a split second before she asks when her mother will be home. Right before he has to say that she is gone, still gone. That smile that lingers for a moment before the tears start.

Tony shares a drained, prisoner of war smile with a young mother pushing a stroller. 

When he and Tali pass the food court, she tries to leap out of the seat. She rips at the safety harness, but her fingers aren’t controlled enough to release it.  

“Abba! Stop!” she screams. “Stop!”

But Tony is too lost in his own mind to listen. Only when she thrashes sideways, her whole body pitching dangerously to the floor in toddler rage does he jerks the stroller to a halt.

He sighs quietly. “Tali? What is it?”

“Maggie!” she shrieks at the top of her lungs.

Crouching down next to the stroller, Tony rests his hand on her shoulder. She instantly stills, but her tiny chest heaves and her cheeks grow ruddy. He struggles to keep his head rational because two year olds hell bent on their latest desire are harder to reason with than even the most deranged criminal.

“Maggie! TeeTee sees Maggie!” she howls.

“McGee isn’t here, Tali,” he says quietly, calmly. Even though he’s close to losing it himself.  

Tali’s body thrashes again. “Maggie! Maggie! Maggie!”

Tony presses his lips together, eases his weight off his soon-to-be arthritic knees. He probably should count his blessings considering his little girl is begging for a friend they see regularly as opposed to her dead mother. But a public meltdown—especially one that’s about to go off the Richter scale—is still embarrassing.

He offers her a consolation prize pack of peanut-butter crackers, but she throws them back in his face. She cranes her neck around him; her eyes frantically searching the food court.

“Maggie! Here! TeeTee right here!”

A woman with a well-behaved baby perched on her hip shoots Tony a glance that could turn him to stone. He glances up apologetically, wishing the floor would swallow him whole, because he has no idea how to soothe Tali right now. Against his better judgement, he glances towards the packed food court, expecting to see a crowd staring at him like he is the headliner for a freak show. Thankfully, everyone is too involved in their own lives to notice him.

At a table by the sandwich place, Tony notices Tim McGee engrossed in his cell phone.

_Shit, I was supposed to be meeting him to go ring shopping today. How did I forget that?_

“Maggie!” Tali’s face turns even redder. “TeeTee is here!”

“Don’t worry, Tali. I see him,” Tony says, touching her shoulder. “We’re going.”

She bucks against the tray table like a wild animal until Tony points the stroller in Tim’s direction.

As they draw closer, Tony is surprised to see the quiet confidence that Tim usually exudes has been replaced by a nervous energy radiating in waves. His leg bounces beneath the table, his sneaker squeaking quietly. In place of his uniform starched oxford and dress jeans, Tim wears a plain green T-shirt and Levis that have seen better days.

Tali suddenly goes silent as though she is trying to blend in with the background. She wiggles back and forth in her chair, ready to explode with excitement.

Before Tony has a chance to greet Tim, she shrieks: “Maggie!” right next to him.

Tim nearly jumps out of his skin. His head pops up, eyes wide.

When he notices them, concern sweeps over Tim’s face.

And Tony kicks himself for not pretending to have his shit together like he always does. Maybe it’s the half a week’s worth of stubble or the dark bags under his eyes that give him away. Or maybe it’s just something as simple as his designer suits being switched out for casual clothes. Just like Tim, Tony never looked quite right in a t-shirt and jeans. 

Tim climbs out of his chair to stand in front of Tony.

Tim goes for a hug while Tony offers a handshake. They switch their intentions halfway through, and end up with a manly one-armed hug with an entire body length between them. Even though they see each other a few times a week, they’re still near strangers living on different sides of the same planet.  

Tim’s eyes search Tony’s face. “Hey, how are you?”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat like it always does when Tim asks _that question._ The real answer lands somewhere between his tongue and his lips. That he still doesn’t know how to deal with being a dad. That he still can’t understand why Ziva couldn’t be bothered tell him about their daughter. That he isn’t supposed to be angry, but he is still fucking pissed. At the dead mother of his poor daughter.

_And Dad wonders why I haven’t slept in months._

“I’m fine, Tim,” Tony says. Just like he always does.

Tim takes the reply at face value. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me.”

“How could I? We just set this up when we had lunch on…what was that? Wednesday?” Tony smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “How’s work been?”

It’s Tim’s turn to be evasive. “Fine.”

The subtle shift that took place over the summer suddenly feels seismic. What used to be hours spent pouring over case details—things that Tony wasn’t supposed to know about due to his retirement—slowly gave way to discussions about their lives, their feelings, their loved ones. Tony suspects that Gibbs’ choice to pass over Tim’s promotion in favor of hiring FBI agent Tess Monroe might have something to do with why they never talk about work anymore.

Tony nods. “How are you?”

“Good.” Tim grins. “Actually, great. Last night, Delilah and I finally got to – “

Tony raise his hand. “My daughter doesn’t need to hear about how you finally lost your…well, you know what, McSteamy.”

Annoyance flashes in Tim’s eyes before he laughs. “I was going to say that we finally got to enjoy that bottle of wine you gave us when we moved in together.”

Tony tilts his head. “Wasn’t that over a year ago?”

Tim licks his lips and looks away.

“And you wonder why people think you’ve got commitment issues, Tim.” When his friend doesn’t laugh, Tony tries again: “You better snap her up before she comes to her senses.”

Tim shrugs as he continues to stare at a store across from them. When Tony follows Tim’s gaze, he finds a jewelry store with windows full of twinkling diamonds, sparkling gems, and expensive watches. Pictures of happy couples—blonde haired with blue-eyes and giant, vibrant smiles—in wedding clothes promise that real happiness is just one overpriced, oversized rock away. 

“I will,” Tim starts. “I just – “

“Maggie? You here?” Tali blurts out, leaning forward in her stroller and twisting her body upwards.

Tim instantly drops to his knees. “How could I forget about you, TeeTee? You’re my special girl, remember?”

“Maggie,” she repeats, grinning.

“Let’s try my name again, Tali. I’m Uncle Tim.” He points to his chest. “Can you say that? Uncle Tim.”

Her tongue rolls around like it’s suddenly too big for her mouth. Somehow, Tim morphs into: “Ima?”

Tali cranes her neck around Tim, desperately searching the crowd for someone who will never come. Tim glances up with a nervous smile and Tony nods to tell him that it’s okay, that it’s something she does all the time, that it’s the only way Tali will learn to move on.

But Tony still holds his breath.

“Ima,” Tali breathes as fat tears start down her cheeks.

Pressing her fists against her eyes, Tali mutters something to herself in Hebrew. Then, hysterical sobs ravage her tiny body as she leans over the tray table.

Tim’s expression edges into panic and Tony stoops next to him. When Tim tries to escape, Tony grips his arm to say _oh, no you don’t._ His body goes rigid as though even the slightest breath could send Tali careening over the edge.

Tony rubs the back of her head, chases the curls from her face.

“Hey Tali, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “Abba is here.”

She pulls her hands away. “Abba?”

Nodding, he cups her chin to hold her cloudy, hazel-eyed stare. Everyone always tells him that Tali has his eyes. He doesn’t believe them because, to him, she is every inch her mother.

“I will always be here and if I’m not, then McGee will be. Remember? He is mine and Ima’s best friend. We were a team. Remember when we talked about what it means to be a team?”

“Team-a,” she whispers.

Tony holds his index finger to his chest, then Tim’s. “We’re a team and we always have your – “ then he points to Tali “ – six. Just like we had Ima’s.” He waits a split-second to add: “And remember, that I will always love you.” 

“Love Abba,” she murmurs. “Love Maggie too.”

Her eyes grow wide as her toddler brain struggles to understand the implication of what the definition of love really is. Since she is finally on a different subject than her dead mother, Tony elbows Tim’s side.

Tim glances over with that dead-fish stare he used to wear during his Probie days. Tony tilts his head towards Tali, telling him to just get on with it. Out of her line of sight to not show the growing dent in their united front, Tim shrugs helplessly.

Tony sets his jaw, hoping to hell that he doesn’t have to call the bomb squad on Tali if he’s wrong.

“Tali,” he says, “McGee brought you a present.”

Her tiny brow furrows as she tries to make sense of the words. Then she holds her hands out in a _gimme_ motion in anticipation of the present Tim always brings. When Tim pulls a small, black stuffed horse out of his pocket, he gives it a squeeze. It whinnies.

Tali’s face lights up as she clutches it to her chest.

Tony taps her tray table. “What do we say?”

“Toda,” she says, grinning.

“You’re welcome,” Tim says, ruffling her hair. “I need to learn how to say you’re welcome in Hebrew.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, me too. But thank G-d, I can always count on you to bring her something. Otherwise, I think we would’ve had to call it a day before we even go this party started.”

Smiling, Tim just watches Tali make the horse whinny over and over. “What kind of godfather would I be if I didn’t spoil her?”

Tony laughs. “The kind who makes offers no one can refuse.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he stands up. After giving Tali a quick kiss to the forehead, Tony joins him.

“So, Tony,” Tim says, cautiously, “I take it that she isn’t getting any better about missing Ziva, huh?”

Tony clenches his jaw, eyes focused on the jewelry store across the hallway. “What do you say we get ring shopping?”

Tim pales considerably when he follows Tony’s stare. “How about we take a lap? I need to burn off that milkshake I had while I was waiting for you two.”


	2. Chapter 2

They take so many laps that Tim could have worked off a hundred milkshakes, but Tony doesn’t mind. He lets the rhythmic slap of his sneakers, the dull whinny of Tali’s newest toy, and Tim’s unending monologue—who knew he could ramble so much about Ellie Bishop’s new apartment or Abby Scuito’s fight for upgraded lab equipment or Jimmy Palmer’s, well, antics?—lull him into a state of almost suspended animation.

He floats somewhere near the rafters in an out of body experience, watching what’s become of his life below him, wondering just how the hell he got here.

Aimless, directionless, unbuoyed. That’s all Tony ever feels anymore.

Tali holds up her stuffed horse, rambles excitedly at him in Hebrew. He stops to indulge her, stares into her green-flecked hazel eyes— _why does everyone says she has my eyes?_ But he doesn’t understand a single word. He wants to tell her to try again in English, but he doesn’t the heart to. The rapidly fading Hebrew is one of the last things she has left of her mother.

Before long, the last traces of her mother—Ziva, he corrects himself—will be gone from her life. Much like they were swept away from his like tiny pieces of sand, bit by bit until there was nothing left.

_Nothing except for Tali._

Tony blinks, taken aback.

She lets out a belly laugh as she grabs for his hand. When their eyes meet, there’s something in them that he has never seen before. She stares at him like he is the only person on the planet, like he is a hero. And Tony suddenly feels like he’ll never be able to live up to her expectations.

_I haven’t been a hero since I walked away from the agency. I said it was all for my daughter, but what if it wasn’t? What if I felt guilty that Tali already lost one parent?_

Tim brushes by Tony’s side, seeming to understand what’s going through his friend’s head. He places his hand on Tony’s arm.

“Did I tell you that the refrigeration system in autopsy crapped out last week?” he asks.

Tony glances over, thankful for Tim’s normalcy. Even though he already heard the story four times, Tony shakes his head anyway. He half-listens as Tim dives into the wild tale about how the cooling unit blew a fuse during last week’s record temperatures and how Palmer spent the day stealing ice from the cafeteria to keep the corpses cold.

“That gives new meaning to keeping someone on ice,” Tony says, struggling to lighten the tone.

Tim offers Tony a pity laugh, but it doesn’t work. Tony plops a couple of crackers onto Tali’s food tray and she rips into them like they are her last meal. He motions to Tim and they start moving again.

Before Tony knows it, they’re back at the crossroads of the food court and the jewelry store.

“It’ll get easier,” Tim suddenly blurts out.

“What will?” Tony cocks his head. “Being a single father or moving on?”

“Both of it.” Tim looks away. “All of it.”

“That’s what they keep telling me, but it’s been months. Being a dad is harder than I ever thought it could be. But alone?” He laughs hollowly. “Don’t get me started on Ziva. I don’t even know how to feel. Hell, I haven’t figured out how to live without being an agent.” There is much more to it than that, but thankfully, Tim doesn’t press. “And don’t even get me started on how much I’m fucking Tali up for life.”

“Muckin’, muckin’,” Tali repeats as she chews on a cracker.

Tony gestures at the stroller as though to say _See what I mean?_

Tim just smiles sympathetically.  “You’re one of the strongest people that I’ve ever met, Tony. If I hadn’t been there to see what you’ve been through, I never would’ve believed it.” He shifts his weight, eyes the jewelry store. “I need to know that you can get through this. Because if you can’t…”

Tony’s brow furrows. “What are you getting at, Tim?”

“I almost lost Delilah that night.” His stare melts into some faraway place only he can see. “When Parsa bombed the awards ceremony. I’ll never forget how I dug through the rubble, praying that I’d find her and praying that I wouldn’t. You have no idea what that was like.”

Tony stares silently at the jewelry store. The ads mock him with promises of a happily ever after that will never come. He’ll never know what it feels like to grow old with someone that he might have loved.

Eventually, Tim takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I could go through that again. And if you can’t get over…” he has the grace not to say _Ziva_ “…then I know I’ll never be able to handle losing Delilah.”

“But at least you get the chance to see what happens for the two of you.” A pained smile pulls at Tony’s lips. “I’ll only have what never was and what might’ve been.”

Tim smiles. “Don’t forget about Tali.”

“Of course I have her. And believe me, I wouldn’t give that up for the world.” When Tim doesn’t say anything, Tony continues: “But you and Delilah have a real chance at a real life together. We don’t always get a second chance like you. Don’t want to make the same mistake I did.”

“Which was?”

“I walked away. I let the moment pass me by...”

Tim wrinkles his nose. “You both did.”

“Still doesn’t make it right. Don’t worry about the what ifs.” Tony grins, says in his best impersonation of Sebastian from _The Little Mermaid._ “Don’t make me sing _Kiss De Girl_ for you, McGee.”

Tali cheers. “Sing, Abba! Sing!”

Tim’s expression grows resolute. “I’ll go, but only if you promise never to do that again.”

  _-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

If the ads promising a better life with shiny baubles were obnoxious outside the store, inside they’re downright excruciating. Life-sized pictures of men down on one knee to _Pick the right ring to her the most important question of your life_ are plastered everywhere.

Tony parks the stroller next to a glass display case full of diamonds that twinkle like as brilliantly as the night sky. Tali shows her horse to the cardboard cutout of a bride. When the bride doesn’t move, Tali grows more incensed. Her broken English morphs into snippets of Hebrew. Tony crouches down to distract her with a cracker. After tossing it to the floor, Tali gives the cardboard bride a piece of her mind.  

By the entrance, Tim stands stock still, rubbing the back of his neck. His muscles are tight and taut, poised like a man about to run for his life.

Just when Tony thinks Tim might just bolt, a middle-aged man with a bad-comb over and a cheap suit blocks his escape. He clasps his arm around Tim’s shoulders, seamlessly guiding the agent towards a display case on the opposite side of the store.

“So I take it that you’re here to buy something for someone special?” the man sing-songs, eyeing Tony.

“A ring.” Tim nods mechanically. “I’m here for an engagement ring.”

The man smiles like a shark smelling blood for the first time. “I’m Maurice and I’ll be your guide to everything – “ his long fingers gesture towards a display case “ – beautiful.”

“Thanks. I’m Tim. But right now, I’m just looking. I think.” When Tony clears his throat a little too loudly, Tim’s cheeks go red. “I mean…I’ll know what I want when I see it.”

“Then let’s get started…” Maurice keeps a careful eye on Tony “…over here.”

They’re only by the display case for a split second before Tim says: “These are men’s rings.”

“That’s what you’re looking for, right? An engagement ring for your – “ Maurice fumbles, glances to Tony for some help “ – your…”

“My partner.” Tim’s eyes widen. “That’s not what I meant. He’s my partner. At work. We worked together and we’re friends.” He clears his throat before he tries again. “I need something to ask my _girlfriend_ to be my _wife_.”

“Oh, oh.” Maurice clasps his hands to his chest. “Please accept my apologies, Tim. It’s just that I saw you two together and assumed that you needed something…less conventional.”

When Tony snickers, Tim shoots him a nasty look.

Maurice quickly changes gears. “The woman’s collection is right over here. I believe I have exactly what you’re searching for.”

When they join Tony and Tali by the women’s rings, Maurice accidently steps on the dropped cracker. He doesn’t break a step on the way to the back of the case.

Tali’s eyes widen as she points at him accusingly.

“Mess!” she shrieks. “Mess! Clean up mess!”

Tony holds his fingers to his lips. “It’s okay, Tali. We don’t have to worry about it right now.”

She stares deep into Tony’s eyes. “TeeTee not make the mess.”

“I know you didn’t make the mess. He’ll clean it up later, okay?”

After a sidelong glance that says she doesn’t believe him, she gives him a conciliatory nod. Then he ruffles her hair and offers another cracker. She chucks this one at Maurice, who tilts to the side just enough to let it hit the wall behind him. He doesn’t even break character as he tries peddle a two carat, princess-cut solitaire diamond that probably weighs as much as Delilah.

Tali tries to break free from her stroller again.

Just when Tony is about to tell Tim that they’ll be outside, someone taps his shoulder. He glances up to find another sales associate. Her short blonde hair just grazes the tip of her collar bones where a nametag that reads _Rosalind_ is pinned to her grey suit jacket.

“Would you like me to take your daughter on a tour of the store, sir?” she asks.

Tony shakes his head. “I think we’ll be okay.”  

“It’s no trouble really.” Her smile is quick as she touches her belly. Tony hadn’t noticed how pregnant she is. “I have three more at home. This is a hard age and you look like you could use a break.”

Tony is ready to decline until he notices how Tali holds up her horse again. Rosalind actively listens as Tali rambles on about Tim and her newest toy. After Tony nods, Rosalind unhooks the stroller restraints with a parent’s expertise and places Tali on the ground. Tali gives Tony a wave with her horse as she toddles off with her new friend in tow.

Running his hand through his hair, Tony turns back to Tim and Maurice’s conversation. For the first time in weeks, he might be able to join an adult conversation. One that doesn’t involve potty training, begging a toddler to go to sleep, or trying to figure out how her dinner choice can change by the minute.

“…little big, don’t you think?” Tim is saying.

“Not at all,” Maurice sing-songs. “Women all swear they want a small ring. But in reality, they want something to make their friends jealous.”

Nodding, Tim scrutinizes a round diamond that’s only slightly smaller than the previous one. Tony leans over his shoulder, taking in the perfect, tiny facets and the way they sparkle under the house lights.

Tim passes it to Tony as though he asks for his opinion. The weight of the ring surprises Tony and he instantly understands why he had to pester Tim all summer about buying one. Underneath the mass of the diamonds and gold, there comes the burden of knowing that you have to be worthy enough to ask someone to share the rest of their life with you. For better or worse. For whatever may come and whatever may not.

Tony’s heart drops into his stomach.

_I’ve never come that close. Not even with Ziva._

Tim clears his throat. “Do you think Delilah would like it?”

“It is beautiful,” Tony says, looking up. “But what do you think she’ll want, Tim?”

Tim shifts his weight, hemming and hawing. His eyes move skittishly away from the ring Tony holds to the collection of three stones further down the glass case.

Maurice is smart enough to switch focus.  He snatches the ring from Tony’s hands before luring the pair further into the store. He pulls out another ring with a ginormous, round stone nestled between two smaller ones. Since Tim is busy checking out something else in the case, Maurice passes it to Tony as though he holds the power of persuasion over his friend. Tony runs his fingers over the stone, reminding himself what each stone is supposed to represent.

Past, present, and future.

His past, weighed down by bleak cases and never ending days, gave way to sleepless nights and toddler temper tantrums. His future, however full it might be with his daughter, still seems as bleak as the past. Licking his lips, Tony takes in the posters of picturesque wedding scenes and contented lovers. No matter how much his dad tells him that he just needs to find love, Tony doubts it could make him happy.

_While Tali is my entire future, I still want more than that. I need more than that._

“Can I see that one?” Tim’s voice rips Tony straight out of his own mind.

Maurice plasters on a fake smile until he notices which ring Tim wants. At the sight of the three stone with a small round center diamond flanked by two blue triangular sapphires, Maurice practically salivates over it. He presents it to Tim like it’s the Eighth Wonder of the World.  

Tim’s face lights up as soon as he takes it. “This one is perfect.”

“Really?” Tony asks, brow furrowing.

“Sapphires are my and Delilah’s birthstone,” he explains. “We’re sharing our lives together as one.”

The furrow in Tony’s brow deepens. “That’s a lot for you to get out of a ring.” 

“I wasn’t expecting to get so sentimental over it. But I think this is the one, just like Delilah.”

Maurice reaches into the case to grab the ring’s price placard. When he points out the number, Tim pales.

“It’s how much?” Tim whispers.  

Maurice frowns as he repeats the price. When Tim remains silent, Maurice continues: “Well, it is a Bibliani with a Stevens’ diamond.”

Tim blinks. “A what with a what?”

“It’s one of our premier designers coupled with one of the most exclusive vendors for the top quality diamonds.” Maurice points at the ad on the wall behind him as though it explains everything. “The stone is flawless, conflict-free, and from a mine with a limited supply. The sapphires are completely natural and from one of the finest examples imported from Afghanistan. Post-war and conflict free, of course.” 

Tim half-nods. “Of course.”

When Maurice glances to Tony for help, he adds his two cents: “You know the old recommendation is one month’s salary, Tim. Pre-tax.”

Tim’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “How the hell much did NCIS pay you, Tony?”

“Apparently more than you,” Tony shoots back.

He holds his hands up and takes a step back, telling Maurice that he’s on his own for this one. Even though Tim probably has a pile of cash stashed in a vault somewhere like Scrooge McDuck, Tony isn’t going to be the one to tell him to cough it up for a fancypants ring with overpriced rocks. If Tim is going to spend the money, he’ll have to make the decision on his own.

“Do you need it wrapped up?” Maurice asks, ever hopeful.  

Tim starts to reach for his wallet, then seems to think better of it. He gives the ring one last long look before he hands it back to Maurice.

“I need to think it over,” Tim says quickly.

“I understand.” Maurice deflates right before their eyes. “If you come back before the close of business today, I can offer you ten percent off the retail price.”

Even with the discount, it’s still damn expensive. But if it were Tony, the promise of saving a little cash would have him throwing his credit card on the counter and searching for a matching necklace for his lady. But maybe, Tony tells himself, that’s why he isn’t buying jewelry for anyone.

“Thank you. I’ll probably be back later,” Tim says.

And with that, Maurice takes to setting his wares back up. Tim lingers for a moment as though he isn’t entirely sure of his decision.

Tony heads across the store to collect Tali from Rosalind. He finds them hiding behind a huge display for charm bracelets. Together, they sit on the floor. Tali rambles excitedly in her broken English while Rosalind makes excited noises like she understands every word. When Tony pokes his head into their little world, Tali jumps to her feet.

“Abba,” she says as she toddles over.

Holding out his hand, Tony offers to help Rosalind up. She takes his assistance and once she’s steady, Tony picks up his daughter.

“It looks like you two had fun,” he says.

Rosalind flashes her perfectly white smile. “Your little one has quite the personality.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Tali holds out her horse for Tony to see. “Maggie give TeeTee!”

“I know. McGee gave you a nice present, didn’t he?”

Her tiny brow furrows, then she nods. “Where Maggie?”

“Waiting for us, Tali.” Tony turns his attention back to Rosalind. “Thanks for watching her.”

“It was no big deal.” She shrugs as she gestures to the completely empty store. “It wasn’t like I had anything else to do either. Plus, we had a blast.”

Even though he is pretty sure that she doesn’t mean it, Tony nods his appreciation anyway. After telling Tali to wave goodbye to her new friend, he joins Tim by the door. He fumbles to get Tali back into stroller because trying to get into the harness is like trying to wrangle a fish out of water. As soon as he’s done, Tony lets Tim hold the door open for them.

Once they’re safely in the mall, Tony asks: “So do you think you’re going to go back for that ring?”

Tim hisses through his teeth. “I don’t know. It was really, really expensive.”

“And just how many engagement rings do you plan on buying?”

The words make Tim stop dead. Tony doesn’t notice until he gets a few feet ahead. When he turns back, Tim looks like he is about to be sick.

“You know what, Tim,” Tony says, trying to recover, “why don’t we go grab some lunch? We can talk about it. Maybe I can recommend my financial planner to help you cover it?”

Before Tim has a chance to respond, Tali twists in her seat, “Fishy fishy?”

Tony nods. “Sure, Tali. We can get sushi.”

That snaps Tim right out of his stupor. “Tony, you can’t feed a two-year-old sushi.”

Tony grins. “Just watch me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tony doesn’t tell Tim that when they visit a restaurant Tali transforms into a perfect dinner date. Since his self-imposed moratorium on dating—not many women are interested in an unemployed, single dad—she has been his constant companion to sample Washington’s restaurant scene. The little girl that is a food tossing, temper tantrum throwing monster at home mutates into a perfect lady, ready to sit like a big girl at a table and watch the surrounding people.

Angel in the city and devil at home, Tony’s father always says. Just like Tony’s mother.

Tony doesn’t remember enough of his mother to trust his father’s memories. But Tali’s hellfire tempered with a delicate grace in the presence of others reminds Tony of _her_ mother.

Tony heads to the mall’s only Japanese restaurant on auto-pilot. For where it’s located, the eatery has a surprisingly elegant ambiance. Low hanging light fixtures hover above blue granite tables like tiny UFOs. Tableaus of stark Japanese battle scenes with Kanji characters tell a historic tale that no one understands or particularly cares out. In the corner, a huge fish tank gives customers a chance to look their lunch in the eye before it ends up in a sushi boat.  

Tali excitedly points at them. “Fishy! Fishy!”

“You’re right, Tali,” Tony says. “Those are fish.”

“Yum yum,” she says, craning around in her stroller seat.

Tony bites back a laugh, shakes his head. “No, sweetie. Those aren’t the ones that they use for lunch. They’re just decorations. To look pretty.” He shifts towards Tim and mouths, _I hope._

Tim just shrugs while Tali continues her chorus of, “Fishy fishy. Yum yum.”

Before they have a chance to get settled in the reception area, a rail-thin Asian man rushes a side door probably leading to the kitchen. He is barking at someone inside in a foreign language, but stiffens up at the sight of customers. The person in the kitchen lets him know what he thinks, but the man just closes the door with a forced smile.

“Mr. DiNozzo, it’s great to see you and Miss Tali again,” he says warmly. “It’s later than usual. I thought we had missed you today.”

Tony half-smiles. “We had a change of plans, Mr. Morimoto.”

“An early dinner instead of lunch.” Morimoto’s eyebrows crinkle as he matches Tony’s smile. “And you brought company. You certainly are breaking routine, Mr. DiNozzo. Would you prefer your usual table?”

“Please.”

They end up at a booth smack dab in the middle of the restaurant with a clear view of the fish tank for Tali and the bar for Tony. Even though he doesn’t drink anymore, he still likes to look. The temptation that nearly destroyed him in those years after Ziva still tempt him, but he’s strong enough to resist their gravitational pull. He likes to sit there and watch other people indulge in oblivion because, damn it, he misses the clarity that comes at the bottom of a bottle.

Today, Tony sacrifices his view to slide into the seat next to Tali. Tim plops himself down across from them. After a quick drink order of sodas for the men and milk for Tali—mooing at Morimoto seems to get her point across—Tony sinks back into the booth seat.

Tim pours over the menu, obviously trying to avoid the conversation that Tony is sure they’re about to have. Beside him, Tali ignores the children’s playmat in favor of building a fort with their chopsticks.

_That’ll keep her occupied for hours._

Tony clears his throat. “So Tim – “

“What’s good here?” he asks without looking up.

“Everything is good here. Just pick a fish.”

“Fishy, fishy,” Tali mutters to herself. “Yum, yum.”

Tim presses his lips together like he is making a life or death decision. As long as they stay away from the blowfish, Tony is pretty sure they’ll be completely fine.

Moments later, Morimoto reappears with their drinks. He asks them if they need more time. Tim is about to say yes when Tony orders a medium-sized boat and says, “Surprise me.”

Morimoto collects their menus, backs away gracefully, promises that he won’t let them down.

Once they’re alone, Tony tilts his head as he stares at Tim.

“What happened, Tim,” Tony says, more statement than question.

Tim blinks. “We’re great, Tony. I love getting a chance to –“

“No, not that.” Tony holds his hand up. “Between you and Delilah. When I left the agency, you were so ready to marry her. You had a ring picked out, a plan to move to Arlington, and get started on having kids. You had a chance at the American dream, you said. Just like you always wanted. What happened?”

“Things changed,” Tim says flatly.                                    

Tony’s chest tightens. “Did Delilah…”

“Oh good G-d, no.”

“And you didn’t.” Tony gives Tim a suspicious glance. “Did you?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tony.” Tim’s jaw twitches. “No, I didn’t cheat on her. We’re happy. Everything is perfect.”

“Then what’s holding you back?”

“Nothing.” Tim shrugs, frowning. “Everything.”

But Tony still doesn’t understand. “Well, you never did know how to roll with the punches.”

“Everything is so good between us right now.” Tim sighs languidly. “What if I screw it up by asking her to marry me?”

“The woman moved back from Dubai to be with you. I think she is expecting you to propose. Don’t you think it’ll mess everything up if you don’t?”

Tim’s expression turns cloudy. “I didn’t think about that.”

Tony chuckles. “Of course, you didn’t.”  

When Tim presses his lips together, his jaw muscles tighten like a spring. He takes a sip of his soda to try to hide it as his gaze wanders back towards the bar. After all these years, Tony knows his friend’s tells.   

“What else is there, Tim?” Tony pipes up.

His eyes widen as though he is surprised Tony could see through his terrible poker face. He takes another long sip of his soda before he sighs.

“Everything changed, Tony.” But this time it sounds different, like the world as he knew it caved in a long time ago and he still hasn’t dug himself out of the rubble.

Tony nods. “Okay.”

“Everything changed after you left.”

It’s Tony’s turn to look away. “It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.”

“I know,” Tim sputters, grabbing Tony’s arm. “Believe me, I know that. But you were a constant in my life at the agency. You were always there to harass the hell out of me, to keep me in line, make me stay on point. I could always count on you. I thought you’d be there forever.”

Tony licks his lips. “Like Gibbs.”

“I think I always knew Gibbs would retire someday. But you…”

Even though Tim doesn’t say it, Tony knows exactly what he wants to: that Tony would never leave the job, that he would die behind the desk, that he would go out in a blaze of glory while in a shootout with some dirt bags, that NCIS would be his life until someone took it.

But Tim surprises Tony with: “…I thought I’d have your six for the rest of my life.”

Swallowing hard, he wraps his around Tali’s shoulders to let her ground him. She doesn’t even notice as she smashes her stuffed horse against the tabletop.

“You’re a damned good agent, McGee,” Tony blurts out. “You don’t need me. You never did.”

Tim smiles sadly. “That’s what you always thought, wasn’t it? That we didn’t need you.”

Tony shrugs as though to say _Well, yeah._

“You’re wrong.” Shaking his head, Tim drums his fingers on the table. “And maybe I’m overthinking things. But how am I supposed to ask Delilah to marry me if the one person who I thought would always be there walked away at a moment’s notice? What’s to stop her from doing the same?”

Every part of Tony wants to slam his hands on the table, wants to scream _I’m right here for fuck’s sake_ loud enough for it to be heard in the food court. But he just holds Tali tighter.

“Love,” Tony says because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Tim’s smile turns even more miserable as he hangs his head. “I know and you’re right. I’ve made a huge mistake by waiting this long. Like I’ve said all along, my reason wasn’t very good.”

“Most excuses aren’t.” Tony rubs Tali’s shoulders. “And stop all of that talk about how much everyone at the agency needed me. You guys are doing just fine without me.”

Tim genuinely laughs. “I never said anything, but the whole team went to hell after you left.”

Tony blinks. “How so?”

“Remember how Gibbs passed over my promotion to hire Tess Monroe?” There’s a surprising amount of malice in Tim’s voice. “Let’s just say that she isn’t very special like you were. She used to be an ‘interrogation specialist’ – “ he uses air quotes “ –  for the FBI.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

Tali giggles to herself. “Sheet, sheet.”

“We don’t say that word, Tali,” Tony whispers.

Covering her mouth with one of her hands, she goes back to skewering her horse with a chopstick.

Tony turns his attention back to Tim. “How many cases has it impacted?”

Tim makes a face. “We had two confessions thrown out because her – “ he uses air quotes again “ – ‘ inappropriate techniques for dealing with suspects.’ Then were the three that she forgot to Mirandize. And let’s not forget about the guy whose jaw she broke. The JAG lawyers love her.”

“What does Gibbs say about it?”

“Nothing,” Tim says simply. “He loves that we get results. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore if the confession sticks as long as we solve the case.”

Tony hisses through his teeth. “Well…shoot. What about Bishop?”

“Already looking to transfer.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know anymore.” Tim shrugs. “Maybe that’s why I’m afraid to ask Delilah to marry me. I don’t want her to give up her career when I take a transfer somewhere else. And I’m not sure we can survive long distance again. It almost destroyed us the last time.”

“I still think that’s a stupid reason.”

Tim laughs. “Like you just said, most excuses are.”

Before Tony has a chance to respond, Morimoto rushes over with a precariously balanced wooden boat in his hands. He slides it onto the table, then he breathes a sigh of relief. Pieces of fish are set up in a rainbow, nestled up against pristine white rice and ink black seaweed. They adorn the mast, the hull, and even a tiny gangplank that seems to have them marching towards Tali’s plate.

Morimoto bows. “I hope you find your dinner adequate.”

“That’s enough to feed an army,” Tony says.

“Yeah, it looks great,” Tim adds, but he sounds unsure.

Once they’re alone, Tony reclaims their chopsticks from Tali’s play area. She is up on her knees, leaning across the table to pick sushi off the boat. She keeps reaching for the same kind of fish: a pale light blue one on a bed of white rice.

Seemingly hesitant on where to start, Tim picks up one of Tali’s favorites. He pops it into his mouth. Suddenly, he freezes mid-chew and spits it out into his napkin.

“What the heck is that?” he gasps.

Tony shrugs. “I have no idea, but Tali seems to like it.”

After chugging his soda, Tim turns to the safer salmon while Tony samples all the colors of the rainbow. But he is careful to leave all of the light blue ones as Tali meticulously picks her way through all of them. Once they’re gone, she moves on to a dark red one.

Tim suddenly gestures to Tony with his chopstick. “Alright Tony, your turn.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, eyelid twitching.

“You grilled me for my MOAS. Now, spill.” Tim pushes a previously undiscovered piece of light blue sushi towards Tali like it’s radioactive. She scoops it up, grinning with rice-filled chipmunk cheeks.

“I don’t have any secrets,” Tony says.

Tim shoots him a disbelieving look. “Come on, Tony. You didn’t find out that you were a father until three months ago. That had to make you feel something.”

Everything Tony has wanted to confess since he found out about Tali bubbles up to his tongue.

He desperately wants to tell Tim about all of the hours he spent pounding a punching bag to pulp in a blind rage, the circles he ran through the park to just get away from his life for a moment, the time he spent watching Tali sleep as he wondered how he was supposed to be a father.

He wants to confess the anger that he still has despite how much Tony hates to hold a grudge against a dead woman. She made her choices, but she took the reasoning to her grave. He wants to tell Tim how he tried to skip the other three stages of grieving, tried to land smack-dab in the middle of acceptance. But it’s a lot easier said than done.  

He wants to tell Tim about the night he took a dozing Tali to Abby Scuito’s lab for a rapid-DNA test. Her cheeks were warm under his fingers when he did the cheek swap that Abby couldn’t bring herself to do. _Ziva would never have cheated on you,_ Abby reasoned. _Never, ever, ever._ But Tony didn’t trust Ziva that way anymore. When the test came back positive, he half-expected some two-bit, talk show host to pop out of the office to scream, _Tony DiNozzo, you are the father!_ In the end, it just added kerosene to the raging inferno that still smolders.

“Even I was pissed,” Tim says, his brow knitting in thought. “How could she never tell us that she had a family? _Your_ family.”

Tony shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. “I don’t know, Tim. I – “

“And it didn’t make you feel anything?” Tim interrupts.

_Enough with the psychobabble, McTherapist._

Tony squeezes one of his chopsticks hard enough to snap in half. Shifting in his seat, Tim’s hands unconsciously stray to his throat.

“I was angry. Actually, McGee, I was fucking pissed. Is that what you want to hear?”

Tim’s face turns relieved like he’s glad to finally be getting something—anything. He leans forward, tilts his head in that annoying way therapists do. Tony starts to think his friend might have tried a weekend course on how to annoy people into spilling their guts.

“I get it,” Tim says.

“Do you, McGee?” Tony snaps the other chopstick in half. “Have you ever had the director of Mossad show up to drop off your kid like she was something they were too busy to deal with?”

Tim’s cheeks pale, but he remains silent.

“Someone I cared deeply about, that I thought shared my feelings, had a child—my child—and never told me. I missed out on everything so far in Tali’s life.” Tony pauses for a long time. “I can’t even stand to think that if Ziva hadn’t died in that fire, I never would have known I had a daughter. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

Tim frowns. “I have no idea.”

At that moment, Tali stands up in the booth. She leans over to wrap her arms around Tony’s shoulders and bury her face in his neck. Her tiny body smells like baby powder, stale crackers, and fish.

“Love Abba,” she murmurs. “Love, love Abba.”

“I love you too, Tali.” Tony melts into her for a moment, then nods at Tim. “In the end, she is the only thing that really matters in this circus. She’s happy and healthy, but I’m still learning. We’re learning.”

“Fatherhood suits you,” Tim breathes. “Just like being an agent did.”

Something that feels a lot like guilt smacks Tony square in the chest. Out of everything that happened, his only regret was walking out of the agency without even so much as glancing over his shoulder. He misses the action, the hours, the satisfaction that comes from wrapping up a case.

_I should have thought about how I might be able to have it all before I made such a snap decision._

Taking a deep breath, he decides it might just be time to tell Tim about the call he got from Director Vance last week. The one that offered him his own DC-based team with more supervisory work and less time in the field. The one that he told Vance he needed to think about.

At that moment, Tali releases Tony’s neck to pick up a piece of bubble-gum pink fish. She leans across the table, stretching over the sushi boat to offer it to Tim.

“Door, Maggie, door,” she sings.

Tim’s eyebrow jumps. “What does she want me to do?”

“We’re learning how food gets to DC from Maryland through the Chesapeake tunnel,” Tony explains. “But you’ve got to open the tunnel door first.” 

“Door, Maggie,” Tali says, more demanding this time. “Door!”

Bemused, Tim opens his mouth. Instead of feeding him the fish, Tali slams her fist onto it and it explodes all over his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Tim spends more time in the bathroom than he probably should. By the time he wanders back to the table, Tony is ready to launch a search party for him. He might’ve just made a joke about putting up a poster looking for a man with ice cold feet if Tim didn’t return with determination etched onto his face and water dripping from bangs.

Tony tilts his head. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m ready, Tony,” he says quickly. “I’m going to buy that ring.”

Tony blinks. “Right now?”

“Right this second.” The _before I lose my nerve_ goes unspoken.

“Then let’s go.”

As soon as Tony is on his feet, Morimoto descends on them like a hawk on its prey. He thrusts the bill in Tony’s hands, then tries to escape to let them check the total. But Tony doesn’t even look, just throws his platinum credit card at the maître d’.  Anything to get them out of here before Tim changes his mind.

And Tim looks like he just might.

He stands several feet away, rubbing the back of his neck and seeming to calculate how quickly he could make it to his car.

Tony scrambles to get Tali into her stroller, but she wants no part of it. She grabs onto the edge of the sushi boat while Tony drags her dead-weight out of the booth. After years in college of taking down some of the best and brightest football stars, he still finds twenty-five pounds of flopping, bucking toddler to be more difficult. He wrestles her into the stroller restraints.

“Teetee, still hungry,” she whines at the top of her lungs.

Tony crouches in front of her. “Tali, I need you to stop.”

She thrashes like a wild animal. “Want more fishy! Now!”

“I need you to stop,” he repeats. “Or McGee will go home because you’re making him sad.”

She looks over Tim with her huge, tear-filled eyes.

He looks just about to tell her that everything is fine, but Tony holds up one finger. _Just play along,_ he tries to convey with the motion. Because one chink in the armor while waging war with a toddler is the same to running headlong into combat armed with nothing but a plastic knife.

Tim goes back to casing the exit.

“Maggie, stay,” Tali says. Then she shrieks: “Please!”

Unsure what else to do, Tim holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m not going anywhere, TeeTee.”

When she settles down slightly, Tony wipes the snot from her nose.

“Are you still hungry?” he asks, even though she ate half of their lunch alone.  

Sniffling into her fists, she nods slowly. So Tony packs up a bunch of sushi into a cloth napkin and places it on her tray table. She clutches her horse to her chest, muttering to it in Hebrew as she scoops up another piece of fish with shaky fingers.

After he gets the receipt and his credit card from Morimoto, Tony scribbles down a large enough tip to cover Tali’s freak out, stolen napkin, and ensure that they’ll be welcomed back. With a gracious bow and something that Tony thinks is a Japanese farewell—or maybe it’s _Get your crazy-ass kid outta here—_ Morimoto retreats to his station by the front door.

Tony finishes packing up their belongings.

“You know, Tony,” Tim starts, “we don’t have – “

The glare Tony shoots Tim shuts him right up. “We’re going to buy that damned ring.”

And with that, Tony leads the way out of the restaurant. He strolls, head held high, straight past the pair of women at the bar giving him and his daughter the stink eye for ruining their Sunday afternoon bender. Tim’s cheeks are flushed, his shoulders slouched as he follows Tony. He tries murmuring placations like, _You know kids_ and _We’re just having a bad day._ After a shared eye roll, the women dive back into pickling their livers with overpriced sake.

The men are barely half-way to the jewelry store when a terrible stench hits Tony’s nose. Tim sniffs and Tony is pretty sure that he smells it too.

He drops his eyes to Tali. With her horse tucked under her chin and rice plastered across her cheeks, she dozes like a cherub with something unholy in her diaper.

_You’ve got to be shitting me. Oh, wait…_

Tim glances accusingly at Tali. “What is that awful smell?”

“We’ve got a situation.” The words put Tim on high-alert, but Tony just laughs. “Don’t worry, Tim. It’s a diaper situation. I’ll meet you at the jewelry store.”

“Yeah.”

When Tim starts towards the store, Tony grabs his friend’s arm. “You better buy that ring. Or I’ll shoot you before Delilah gets the chance to.”

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

Since Tony isn’t hounding him to get back to the jewelry store, Tim takes his time. He pauses just outside to watch a young mother chase two identical boys around the food court. The mother tumbles to the ground and the two boys attack her, giggling wildly. They look so happy, so perfect together. A normal family. Something he never had growing up, no matter how hard he prayed for it.

For a moment, he wonders what’s wrong with him, why he can’t just go throw his credit card on the counter, and walk out with that ring for Delilah.

_It’s not that I don’t love her. In fact, I can’t imagine my life without her._

Swallowing hard, Tim glances at the jewelry store. The diamonds in the window sparkle magically, beckoning him to come and lay down his entire savings for the promise of everlasting, life-long love.

But Tim knows that the promise isn’t always kept. No matter how hard children pray for it.

His parents—his stalwart, militaristic father and his compassionate, beautiful mother—were perfect examples of how ‘til death do us part’ only means ‘til the kids graduate from college.’ They put in their twenty-five years together—just long enough for his sister, Sarah, to get through school. Just enough time to earn their pension before his father buried himself even deeper in his military career and his mother eloped to Dallas with her true love: a pastry chef named Clyde. They were perfect examples of how rings and promises and all that pomp and circumstance mean jack shit in the end.

_Do I really want that to happen with me and Delilah?_

Tim sighs quietly.

Maybe he should have come clean to Tony. Because despite all of the pointless movie references, the stupid nicknames, and the G-damned pranks, his friend has that rare knack for being able to see right through Tim as though he were made of glass. Tony could point out the faults with Tim’s overthinking and show him why whatever he originally thought was dead wrong.

_That’s probably why I feel so lost and overwhelmed most of the time._

Tim can’t ignore the cold sweat spreading along the small of his back.

_What would Tony say right now?_

And in his head, clear as day, Tim hears Tony say, _You better go buy that ring. Or I’ll shoot you before Delilah gets the chance to._

At that moment, he finally grasps what Tony has been trying to tell him. That maybe he’ll be doomed to repeat his parents’ mistakes and maybe he won’t. But he’ll never know until he tries.

Tim rubs the back of his head from a phantom head slap. “Thanks, Tony.”

When the young mother casts a suspicious glance towards him, Tim just smiles and waves awkwardly.  He must look completely deranged: watching a mother play with her kids and talking to himself.

He drops his gaze and scuttles into the jewelry store.

There, he is greeted by two new faces. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a huge, fat scar carved into his left cheek and a short, thick man with a bald head that sparkles as much as the diamonds. Both of them wear identical grey suits with a sheen that makes them almost glow under the lights. They look just as surprised as Tim.

He is the first to recover with a forced smile. “Uh…hello.”  

The bald man glares at him for long beat. “Hello.”

Tim glances around the store. “Where are Maurice and Rosalind?” 

“Shift change.” When Tim doesn’t move, the bald man snaps: “We’re getting ready to close up for the day, man. You should probably get out lost.”

_So much for customer service._

“I need to buy a ring. For my girlfriend.” The bald man stares at him blankly while Tim checks the store hours plastered on the door, then his watch. “Look, your store closes at 6. So I’ve got half an hour. This will just take a minute, I promise.”

The bald man sighs like the entire conversation pains his very existence. He yanks a giant, Marquis-cut solitaire out from a case and drops it on the glass counter with an undignified _plink_. It’s the ugly stepsister kind of the ring Tim already chose. Maybe to the right person—probably, Tim decides, a blind person—it could be beautiful. But he sure as hell doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life staring at it.

The bald man gestures at it. “On the house, man.”

“There was one earlier that I liked. A Bilbo-something? It should be right over here…”

Tim moves closer to the display cases. At that moment, he realizes half of them are completely empty. Then he notices duffle bags behind the counter with the display trays of jewelry laid in them.

Tim takes a step back. “On second thought, I’ll just come back tomorrow.”

But the tall man block Tim’s exit, pushes him deeper into the store. He keeps one hand clamped on Tim’s shoulder, just in case the agent is brave—or crazy—enough to try anything stupid.

“What should we do with him, Harlan?” he asks.

The bald man makes a face. “For starter’s, _Fisher_ , shut the fuck up! I said no names! Did your mother drop you on your head as a baby?”

“Just the one time...”

Harlan’s eyelid twitches.

Seeing the momentary distraction, Tim tenses to fight back. But Harlan clucks his tongue, shakes his head slowly. Hidden behind the counter, Harlan holds a Glock pointed at Tim’s chest.

“You should’ve just taken the ring, Lover Boy.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Really, Tali? That couldn’t have waited until we got home?” Tony says as he pushes the stroller out of the men’s bathroom.

With the balance of power in the relationship restored once again—because who just wiped who’s ass?—Tali snuggles back in her stroller. One hand clutches her horse to her chest while the other thumb is jammed firmly in her mouth. Her sleepy eyes struggle to soak up every detail of the mall.

She mumbles something that comes out like, “Maggie?”

Tony half-smiles. “We’re going to find McGee right now.”

And with that, her tiny head lolls to the side. A piece of sushi slips off her tray table, only to be flattened by the fat stroller tires. Tony steps around the fishy roadkill.

They end up at the edge of the food court. Most of the restaurants are still open, but the crowds have thinned to almost nothing. As closing time looms, shoppers have started to head home to get ready for the workweek. Tony tries not to remember what that used to feel like.

Instead, he sets his sight on the jewelry store. The lights are still set to their ethereal, inviting glow, but the security gate blocks the entrance. Only a few feet are open at the bottom; just enough for someone to wriggle through in a pinch.

Tony presses his lips together.

_Damn it McGee. Now, I really am going to have to shoot you._

He checks his phone, but there’s nothing from Tim. He scans the food court, peers down both hallways to the department stores to their ends.

But Tim isn’t anywhere to be found.  

A strange sensation niggles deep in Tony’s gut. Almost forgotten, but still familiar. Like the wispy smoke of a long-lost lover who returns for just one last hurrah before marries someone else.

_Something is hinky._

Pulling Tali’s stroller along with him, Tony moves to a table with a view of the jewelry store and the rest of the food court. He keeps one protective hand on it as though someone might swoop past and rip her from his grasp. Even though he has no idea what is going on, he can’t ignore those raging alarm bells that used to propel him as an agent.

Maybe his Gibbs’SP—as Tony always called it—is going haywire.

But he seriously doubts it. Seventeen years in law enforcement tends to hone that Spidey-sense to perfection, not make it more apt to malfunction.

Tony’s watchful eyes absorb the scene in the food court. Teenage girls with barely enough clothes to keep them from a prostitution charge lasciviously eat ice cream in front of boys who aren’t old enough to have driver’s license. A mother feeds French Fries to twin boys in a stroller like they are baby birds. An elderly couple, oblivious to everything around them, giggle as though they’re in high-school.

“Chicken?” someone asks suddenly.

Tony nearly leaps out of his skin. He turns to find a greying man who is looks like a fire hydrant thanks to his bright red uniform and stout, thick build. He holds out a plate of a fried chicken as though they’re fancy appetizers.

“Try my chicken?” he repeats like Tony is an idiot.

“No, thanks,” Tony says. “I just ate.”

The man’s light eyes darken. “Chicken.”

When Tony lets out a defeated sigh, he takes the closest piece. He pops the flavorless, rubbery meat into his mouth while the man prattles on the daily specials and coupons. After Tony promises to jump up and buy something right this freaking minute, the man smiles like a self-satisfied slug and lumbers to bother the next table.

Instead of moving, Tony turns his attention back to the jewelry store. Inside, two men in grey suits are busy looking over the display cases. To the untrained eye, they might appear to be taking an inventory.

Tony’s heart seizes in his chest.

_Shit, it’s a heist! And McGee is in there!_

He pulls out his cell phone and sends Tim a quick text, _Sit-rep, McGee. How many hostiles?_

After a few minutes, Tony gives up on getting a response. The pit in his stomach sinks deeper, turns blacker as he comes to realize that his friend really is inside. He’s been taken as a hostage or—no, there isn’t another option.

Adrenaline courses through Tony’s veins. He feels that familiar sensation like he is floating outside of his body, somewhere up in the rafters and watching the world beneath him. Before he has a chance to think about it, he is on his feet and pulling the stroller towards the jewelry store.

He only gets a few feet before his mind catches up to him.

_What the hell am I doing? I can’t take Tali in there._

Tony retreats to his table like a coward.

_But I can’t leave McGee._

Damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.

He fiddles with his cell phone as he debates about calling the police. But the last thing the mall needs is for the place to turn into a three ring circus with Metro and NCIS and the clowns—oh wait, the Feebees. Tim and the store’s employees deserve better than to be caught in the crossfire.  

Lost in thought, Tony absently taps his phone on the table.

A security guard with an overstarched uniform and an overinflated ego ambles over. The rent-a-cop’s gold badge gleams next to a nametag that reads, _Rick._

Rick offers Tony a smarmy smile. “Time to move on, sir. The mall is about to close.”

When he meets Rick’s gaze, alarm bells echo louder in Tony’s head. Something about the man sets Tony’s teeth on edge like every suspect in interrogation that ends up being guilty ever did.

_This guy is in on it._

“I just got her to sleep,” Tony says casually, eyeing Tali. “Mind if I wait a few more minutes? She’s been screaming her head off all day. I guess that’s what I get for not buying the Barbie she wanted.”

“I’ve got a boy of my own about the same age.” Rick’s smile flashes genuine. “Tough, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, especially when I’m doing it by myself.”

“Sorry to hear that, sir. Take your time, but remember that the mall will be closing in a little bit.”

“A few minutes of peace and quiet is I need.” Smiling, Tony settles in his seat. “Thanks, Rick. You’re a good guy.”

Rick gives Tony a mock salute before he heads back to patrolling the area in front of the store. Keeping an eye on Rick, Tony checks his cell phone for a message from Tim. But there isn’t anything.

So Tony calls the only other person who will always answer.

His dad picks up on the first right. “Hiya Junior. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just…“ Tony swallows hard, certain he’ll regret this later. “Dad, where are you?”

“At home with a friend.” There’s a muffled conversation. “We’re playing bridge. Yeah, bridge.”

Tony shakes his head. “Can you do me a favor and meet me at the mall?”

“When?”

“Right now.” Even though Tony tries to hide it, anxiety creeps into his voice.

Senior gives a low exhale. “Is everything okay?”

Tony closes his eyes. “Yes and no.”

“Did something happen to Tali?” Senior asks, his tone on edge.

“No, no. Tali’s fine. She’s sleeping. It’s just that…” Tony’s eyes skirt towards the jewelry store. “Look Dad, I can’t really explain right now. Can you just get here and bring Veronica with you?”

There’s a gasp. “Are you sure, son? Do you really need her?”  

Tony keeps his gaze fixed on the jewelry store. “Absolutely.”


	6. Chapter 6

Tim ends up locked in the employee break room with Rosalind and Maurice. Unfortunately, the ambiance and magic of the store doesn’t carry over into this depressing space. With its peeling linoleum and broken chairs and army green lockers, it looks more like a prison more than a place where the “people who make dreams come true” get to relax.

With his hands bound in front of him, Tim struggles to release the tiny knife in his belt buckle. It was a parting gift from Tony, who said it was a requirement for all very special agents to have one. Tim has never been more thankful in his life for Tony’s quirky—and practical—present.

Tim’s sweaty fingers slip over the smooth metal and leather. Tony always made it look so easy during their training exercises. Even though terror rises in his gut, Tim fights to keep it at bay.

_Rosalind and Maurice are counting on me to get us out of here. No pressure._

“We’re going to die,” Maurice moans.

Tim bites the inside of his cheek. “I already told you that we’re not going to die.”

“Yes, we are.”

Placing her hands on Maurice’s shoulder, Rosalind watches Tim with earnest eyes. It’s as though he is as transparent as cellophane and she knows he has no idea what the fuck he is doing.

He turns away from her.

Perspiration begins to soak through his shirt, but he won’t let them see that he teeters on the edge of panic with them. Because if he loses his cool, all hope—and probably their lives—are as good as gone.

“They’re going to take all of the jewelry,” Maurice groans. “Then they’re going to come back here and shoot us. We’re going to die.” He throws his head back against the wall, moaning and looking heavenward.

Tim shoots Rosalind a look that says _please, shut him up._

All it takes is one panicking hostage to bring the dirtbags back here before Tim is ready to fight. He tries to swallow, but his mouth is nothing but cotton balls. Knowing that he is on his own right now is terrifying. He is used to having his team is one step behind him. Even though Tony is just outside, he probably has no idea what the hell is going on. And it’s not like that matters because Tony isn’t even an agent anymore. What could he do against the dirtbags without his weapon?

“Hey Maurice,” Rosalind coos as though she talks to a child, “Tim came back to buy that ring.”

“So what?” he shoots back.

“I guess that means I owe you twenty bucks, huh?”

Maurice makes a face. “Yeah? And?”

“Well, you said that Tim didn’t look the kind of guy who would spend that kind of money.” Tim gives Maurice a dirty look as Rosalind continues: “And you said that you’re never wrong.” She tilts her head, half-smiles at Tim. “But hey, look. He came back.”

He obviously isn’t following, but Tim isn’t either.

“Yeah, and?” Maurice snaps.

“You were wrong about Tim. Maybe you’re wrong about us dying?” She squeezes his shoulder hard enough to make him look up at her. “So I guess I owe you the money.”

Maurice stifles a sob. “What does it matter if they kill us?”  

When Rosalind looks at him hopelessly, Tim wishes Tony were here. If nothing else because Tony would know exactly what to say to diffuse the situation and shut Maurice the hell up.

“I won’t let that happen,” Tim tries.

“And how do you plan to do that?” Maurice snaps. “You’re too busy trying to take your pants off to do anything!”

“I’m a federal agent and – “ Tim narrows his eyes at Maurice “ – like I already told you, there’s a knife in my belt buckle that I’m going to use to get us out of here.”

At that moment, Tim wrests the tiny blade free. His moment of triumph is short lived. It slips out of his fingers to skitter under the lockers. He follows it to the floor, lying on his stomach to peer through the dust and fossilized bits of food and empty candy wrappers. The knife is gone for good.

“Fuck,” Tim growls.

Maurice shies away from Rosalind. “See? I told you. We’re going to die.” 

When he moves towards the door, she is glued to his side. Raw terror edges onto his features and Tim instantly recognizes that flash in Maurice’s eyes. He is a man with nothing left to lose, concerned with only his survival. A loose cannon, at best. Someone that will get them all killed, at worst.

Rosalind pulls herself to her full height, which isn’t much. She gets close enough to Maurice for her pregnant belly to graze his stomach.

_Oh shit, they’re going to fight._

Tim scrambles to his knees. “Let’s just – “

“We’re going to die!” Maurice wails. “And that federal agent can’t save us! We – “

“Keep it down,” Tim interrupts. “Those guys are going to hear you.”

“We’re going to die. I’m too young to – “  

“Just shut the fuck up, Maurice!” Rosalind screams, her face going red. “Tim is trying to be nice, but you need to just shut up! If we die, it’s going to be your fucking fault! All you’ve done is whine about dying when you should be helping.”

Tim jumps to his feet. “Rosalind, be quiet. Please.”

But she is on too much of a roll to stop. “You know what, Maurice, all you ever do is bitch about everything! I don’t put the rings away right! I forget to clean the glass in the cases! Well, you know what! I’ve never got us into a situation like this! This whole thing is your fault! You let those men into the store while I was on break! That’s against protocol!”

Tim slips in between them, grabbing Rosalind to pull her away. But for such a slight person, she is more powerful than he expects. She jerks herself out of his grasp to get back in Maurice’s face. 

She points a finger accusingly at his nose. “If we die, it’s your fault!”

Maurice narrows his eyes. “Fuck you, Rosalind! You’re fired!”

“Oh, so now we’re going to live so you can fire me?” She laughs humorlessly. “You can take this job and shove it up your ass, Maurice! I quit!”

“Both of you! Just shut up!” Tim yells. When the pair glare at him, he drops his voice: “Remember those guys that broke into the store? The ones with the guns? If they hear us, they might just – “

The clicking of the lock on the break room door echoes through the lounge, making them all go silent.  When Fisher and Harlan step into the room, Tim barely manages to bite back a curse. Both dirt bags keep their weapons trained on their hostages. They’re herded into a corner, then Harlan carefully appraises them.

“Which one of you wants to take a ride?” he asks, flatly.

Maurice slumps his shoulders as he studies the tops of his shoes. Rosalind stares at the pair defiantly while Tim puts himself in front of the store employees.

He straightens his back. “Take me.”

“You’ve got a bit of a hero complex there, Lover Boy.” Harlan smiles bemusedly at Fisher. “What do you think, Fisher? Should we take Lover Boy up on his offer?”

Shaking his head, Fisher grabs Rosalind’s arm. “I think we should take her. She’s nice to look at.” He runs a long finger underneath her chin and she looks away. “Very, very pretty.”

“Please. My baby,” she begs.

Harlan presses his lips together, pretends to consider before he says: “I just did, Prego. Now, let’s go.”

When they start to hustle her towards the door, Tim launches a desperate, last-ditch attack on the pair. He shoves Harlan forward, sending the man sprawling into the door jamb. When Harlan turns around, blood flows freely from his now crooked nose.

He glares at Tim. “Alright, Fisher, let’s give Lover Boy what he wants.”

“Right,” Fisher replies.

After he shoves Rosalind roughly to the floor, Fisher grabs Tim by the arm. Maurice darts across the room to kneel beside Rosalind. She buries her face in his shoulder as her quiet sobs fill the room. Maurice stares at Tim with a sorrowful, grateful stare.   

Tim holds his breath as Harlan and Fisher hustle him into the hallway.

Harlan turns to him, eyes murderous. “We would have let her go, Lover Boy. As for you...”

Setting his jaw, Tim defiantly holds Harlan’s stare.

Harlan’s face curls into a sadistic smile. “As for you, you’ll be lucky if the cops ever find your body.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Veronica Lake is the Glock that bought as a graduation gift for himself after he graduated from the police academy. She is lithe and delicate, built of dark and dangerous curves that seems as though she were made just for him, to fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. She is the first love of his life, the first that could never and would never abandon him, the first that would be by his side.

But poking out of his father’s jacket pocket, she looks so out of place, so sinister, so lethal. Like a graceful, silent film star caught in a world of Youtube one hit wonders and reality television.

Tony’s heart quickens at the very sight of her.

They are long lost lovers about to be reunited for the blink of an eye before she’ll be packed up in her case forever. No guns in the house because of Tali, he told himself. But he didn’t have the heart to leave Veronica.

Tony’s father, Anthony DiNozzo Senior, shifts his weight on the mall bench. Veronica disappears back under his three-piece suit that is misplaced with the weather.

With guilt threatening to suffocate him, Tony drops his gaze to Tali.

_I promised her I wouldn’t let the violence that consumed her mother’s life run mine._

Senior clears his throat, casting his eyes out at the mall.

“Is this really necessary, Junior?” he asks.

Tony blinks as he returns to the moment. “Yeah, Dad, it is. I don’t know what’s going on, but my gut is telling me that it isn’t good.”

“There you go with your gut again.” Senior sighs. “The jewelry store closed early, son. That’s all.”

To an outsider, it might be that way. But for someone like Tony, Rick—who hasn’t moved from the front of store—looks a hell of a lot more like a look-out than a security guard. Not to mention the two men in grey suits who seemingly replaced Rosalind and Maurice for a two hour long shift. Their coordinated and carefully timed movements as they move around the display cases are visible through the plate glass windows.

From where Tony sits, it doesn’t look like the jewelry store is closed early. Tony knows what s a robbery looks like, plain and simple. But he doesn’t have the time to reason with his father.

“Can you watch Tali for me?” he asks, quietly.

Senior makes a face. “I think you’re being rash, Junior.”  

“No, Dad, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Senior huffs like Tony is the one who always makes poor life choices. “I don’t think you should – “

“Then tell me where the hell Tim went?” Tony blurts out.

“What do you mean?”

Tony gestures at the nearly empty hallway. “What happened to Tim? He told me he was going to the store to buy an engagement ring and now, he isn’t answering his phone. Rule three, Dad.”

“Is that the one about not screwing a coworker?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “’Never be unreachable.’”

“Maybe he went somewhere with no cell reception.” Senior half-shrugs as he gestures to the entrance to the men’s room. “Or he’s in there. Hell, maybe he got cold feet, went home, and is too afraid to tell you. You keep saying you don’t know why he won’t marry that lovely young woman.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony shakes his head. Maybe his father is right. Maybe Tim changed his mind and decided he didn’t want to see whether Tony would make good on the threat.

Or maybe—like Tony’s gut keeps screaming—he’s being held hostage in the jewelry store.

_Both possibilities make sense..._

Tony fights the urge to laugh. Only after years of being an agent and cop would the likelihood being collateral damage in a jewelry heist be the same as getting cold feet.

_But this is reliable, predictable, and by-the-book Tim McGee. He would_ never _break Gibbs’ rules._

“He wouldn’t just ditch me. Especially not now, Dad. Not after everything we’ve been through.” When Tali fusses, Tony starts to rock the stroller on reflex and she snuggles deeper into her seat. “Can you just humor me?”

After a long pause, Senior sighs hopelessly. “Do whatever you think is right, son. But remember, you aren’t a federal agent anymore.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Thanks for always reminding me.”

“You need to keep things in perspective.”

Tony shakes his head. “What I need to do is to help my friend.”

Senior sighs again, but seems to finally accept that Tony won’t back down. He checks over his shoulder to ensure no one is watching, then Senior passes Veronica to Tony as covertly as he can.

Tony’s touch instantly warms the cold metal of his long-lost love. Even though he hasn’t held a gun since he left NCIS, Tony never forgot how heavy and how intimidating—and how wonderful—they feel in his grasp. He slips her into his pocket, then gives her a reassuring pat.

When Senior glances over with worried eyes, Tony simply shakes his head.

“Can you take Tali home?” he asks.

“Come with us,” Senior suggests. “We’ll do a movie night. She’s been begging for Finding Nemo.”

“We just watched it yesterday. And the day before.” Tony quirks a grin. “Not to mention fifteen times last week and I don’t even know how many the week before.”

“It’s a great movie, son.” Senior smiles as though it could help seal the deal. “You should come watch it with us.” 

Tony leans down to kiss his daughter’s forehead, ruffle her untamable hair. In a dead sleep, she grabs onto his hand and pulls it closer to her chest. For a split second, he considers listening to his father’s advice and just going home with them.

Then movement in the jewelry store catches his attention. Someone else has joined the two men in suits.

Tony’s blood runs cold.

Tim stands behind the counter. He nervously glances over his shoulder towards the back of the store. The bald, grey-suited man, who now sports a crooked and bloodied nose, stands is by his side. He is busy gesturing through the glass at Rick the security guard.

_I was right! It is a freaking heist!_

When Tony springs to his feet, he says, “Take Tali home!” to his father.

Senior stares at the store, mouth hanging at the sight inside. “Ye-yes, son. Just be careful.”

He throws a cheeky smile over his shoulder. “Always am.”

And with that, Tony slinks across the now deserted hallway. He rolls onto the balls of his feet as he sneaks up on the Rick, who Tony now realizes is a shitty lookout. Even when the man in the store motions for him to turn around, Rick just shrugs and says, “I can’t hear you.”  

Tony pulls out Veronica, presses her against the small of Rick’s back.

The security guard’s body stiffens. “Is that a gun?”

Tony blinks. “Um, yeah.”

Rick lets out a moan. “What…” He swallows hard. “What do you want?”

“For you to get me into the store.” When Rick doesn’t move, Tony snaps: _“Now!”_

“Right.”

Inside the story, the bald man throws his hands up as though he is surrounded by idiots. When Tim’s face jerks back to the front of the store, relief washes over it immediately. Tony gives him a wink to tell him that he is here to save Tim’s damsel-in-distress ass whether the younger man wants it or not.  Tim manages a small smile.

“Wait, are _you_ robbing _us_?” Rick asks, voice shaking.

“That’s a joke, right?” Tony replies. “Your friends are in the middle of clearing out the store.”

Rick tilts his head as he considers the thought. “But there’s supposed to be an honor among us, isn’t there? Stay away from our job and we’ll stay away from yours. You know, that kind of thing.”

“Who said I was a thief?”

“Then who – “

“For the love of G-d, just open the door!”

Seeming to finally understand the gravity of his situation, Rick fumbles through the giant ring attached to his belt that’s filled with keys in every size, shape, and color imaginable. After several tries with his shaking hands, he manages to pull open the security gate. It _clack-clack-clacks_ to the half-way point.

Then Tony spurs Rick into the store.

Once they’re inside, Tony comes face to face with the bald man and his impeccable grey suit. The man drags Tim closer and points a gun at his neck.

“Who are you?” he barks.

Adrenaline courses through Tony’s veins. His stance tenses as he clenches his jaw. And for the first time since he walked away from NCIS, he knows exactly what to do, knows how to react. A gun to his best friend’s head is a hell of a lot more predictable than a powder keg of a two-year-old who’s just been told it’s bed time.

He exhales through pursed lips.

Tony carefully watches the rehearsed movements of Tim’s captor. Unlike Rick, this dirt bag is calm and calculated. He has done this before, likely planning this job down to the most miniscule detail. Infiltrate the store, separate the employees, clean out the inventory, take a hostage, and get the hell out of dodge. It could’ve been a textbook heist, if it weren’t for Tony.  

Thankfully, Tony doesn’t have to worry about the dirt bag blowing Tim’s head off in a moment of temporary insanity. Tony bets the dirt bag knows the value of a hostage comes from the threat of ending their life, not by turning them into a pile of blood and guts.

 “Who _the fuck_ are you?” the man growls again.

“There are those who call me…Tony.” Despite the tension, Tony is quite pleased with himself that he—almost—used a quote from one of his favorite movies.

The man’s eyelid twitches. Tim tries not to laugh. 

“And since I introduced myself, you could return the favor,” Tony says.

When the man doesn’t reply, Tim blurts out: “Harlan.”

Suddenly, Harlan cracks the gun against the side of Tim’s head, sending him tumbling to the floor. Groaning, Tim climbs to his knees and presses his bound hands against his left temple. Harlan touches the gun to Tim’s head to tell him that it’s far enough, that he’s done playing around.

Tony releases Rick to double-down on his grip on Veronica. While he confirms his aim, Rick scuttles as far away as he can.

“What are you doing here, Tony?” Harlan asks flatly.

The words _federal agent_ die on Tony’s tongue before he gets them out. “I’m just a concerned citizen.”

“Well, thanks for the concern. But I think we’re peachy keen here, Tony. Aren’t we, Lover Boy?” Harlan jams the gun harder against Tim’s head.

Tim drops closer to the floor. “Yeah, we’re doing great.”

At that moment, another man in a grey suit— _really, who wears last season’s Armani to a heist?---_ heads out of the back. Two huge black duffel bags are slung over one shoulder while he holds a hand gun loosely at his side.

“Those two won’t be going anywhere for a while,” he says, laughing. “I even got that old bastard to open the vault.” When he notices Tony, he stops suddenly. “What’s going on, Harlan? Who’s the new guy?”

“For the love of G-d, Fisher,” Harlan yells. “I said _no fucking names_!”

When Harlan turns his attention to Fisher, Tim and Tony’s eyes meet. All it takes is one quick, shared nod between them for Tony to know they share the same plan. Tony tilts his head to tell Tim that it’s go time.

Then all hell breaks loose.

Tim kicks his legs out, knocking Harlan on his back, while Tony rabbits across the room to tackle Fisher at the knees. Fisher punches Tony just under the left eye. Stars explode in his vision, the world slides sideways. He loses his hold on Veronica and she lands on the carpeted floor, skipping and hopping away.

Tony retaliates, but his strike goes wide. Fisher’s upper cut to the jaw leaves Tony’s ears ringing and his vision blurry. He slumps to the floor. Against the dim lights, Fisher looms over Tony like a monster ready to rip him limb from limb.

Tony kicks him right in the nuts.

Gasping and groaning, Fisher lands on Tony. The weight sucks his breath away and he is pretty sure that he’s going to have the mother of all bruises there later. But he fights to wriggle out from underneath the gargantuan dirt bag and regain the upper hand.  

Tony drives his knee into Fisher’s gut. The man doubles over onto the ground, wheezing and coughing. Tony scrambles to grab Veronica off the floor. He scrambles to his knees just in time to get his gun pointed at Fisher’s head.

At the same time, Tim bellows, “Everybody freeze! Federal agents!”

Tony grins.

_It’s just like old times._

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

While Tony and Veronica keep careful watch over the three would-be thieves, Tim heads into the back of the store. Moments later, he returns with Rosalind, Maurice, and enough zip ties to arrest half of Washington. Once the suspects are properly secured, Tony breathes a sigh of relief.

Tony’s chest heaves as his heart slows to its normal rhythm. Veronica trembles in his grip as the adrenaline slowly dissipates, leaving him exhausted. He runs his hand across his face, winces at the rapid swelling around his left eye. He checks on Tim, who has blood trickling from the gash on his temple.

_I can’t believe we almost got ourselves killed. But what’s worse is that I can’t believe how much I miss the feeling of putting my life on the line to protect others._

He crooks a smile in Tim’s direction. “It looks like you still need me to save your ass, huh?”

“I figured I’d let you,” Tim replies, grinning. “Once more for old time’s sake.”  

Tony laughs heartily. “Yeah, I bet.”

Slumping against the wall behind the counter, Maurice covers his heart with his hands. He mutters soothing words to himself like a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

Tony debates about telling him that everything will be okay, that they’re safe, that the police will be here soon. But he is too busy basking in the afterglow of laughing in death’s face yet again. Plus, there are certain things that he—thankfully—no longer has to deal with since he turned in his badge. Hysterical witnesses, annoying suspects, and Miranda rights are some of them.

He offers Tim a small tilt of his head, tells him that Maurice is his responsibility now. After a stilted sigh, Tim squeezes Tony’s shoulder in thanks. Then he heads over to talk Maurice off the ledge.

After checking to ensure the three dirt bags aren’t plotting anything—Harlan is too busy bitching out Fisher and Rick, who actively ignore him—Tony glances around for Rosalind. He finds her rummaging through the black duffel bags full of diamond rings like she is setting up for the day.  

Just when Tony goes to approach her, she exclaims, “Aha! I found it,” and jumps to her feet.

He is by her side instantly. “Found what?”

She holds out the Biblio-whatever ring with a Stanley-or something other diamond that Tim had his eye on earlier. Under the house lights, it shines brighter than the North Star. And Tony is pretty sure that if that ring doesn’t make Delilah say yes than nothing else in the world ever will.

Rosalind glances up at Tony, drawing attention to the mascara-streaked tear trails down her cheeks. Her short hair sticks out haphazardly, but her smile is bright, beautiful, grateful.

“I just thought you two could use a reward,” she says. “For saving us.”

Tony takes a step back. “We can’t accept –  “

“I insist,” she interrupts. “They would’ve killed me and my baby if it weren’t for you and your friend. Pick something out for yourself. I’ll take care of it.” When Maurice starts to protest, Rosalind glares him down. “Take it out of my last paycheck, you cheap bastard!”

Maurice hangs his head, mumbles: “I’m sorry. Whatever you choose is on me.”

Pressing his lips together, Tony doesn’t know how to respond. Sure, he is used to women offering kisses—and hell, even sometimes themselves—as thanks for a job well done. Back when he worked at NCIS, he was forced to decline every gift, every date, every offer of _a little something to show you how thankful I am_ that was offered to him. But now as a civilian, he almost feels obligated to let Rosalind repay his bravery.

He picks his way through the store. Past the men’s watches and cuff links. Beyond the diamond rings and jewels in a rainbow of colors. When he ends up in the sterling silver section, he feels Rosalind’s questioning stare on his back.

Almost instantly, he finds a simple silver cross in the sea of initials and animal shapes.

“That,” he says, pointing at it, “is perfect.”

With raised eyebrows, Rosalind joins him in the land of simplicity. She studies his choice for a long moment before she glances up at him.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“Absolutely.”

So she reaches into the case to pull out the tiny pendant. In his hands, Tony finds it even more beautiful than Tim’s diamond and its a mile-long pedigree.

He reaches into his pocket to pull out the Star of David pendant on the plain, silver rope chain. There are knots and kinks in the necklace from its constant presence on Tony. Even though he worries he might be destroying it, he still carries it every day to keep a piece of Tali’s mother close to her. When she’s older, he likes to think that she’ll wear it herself.

He slides the cross onto the chain and it bounces over the lumps and bumps until it collides full force with the Star of David. The quiet _plink_ is like two completely different worlds crashing together into a white-hot supernova of what should have never been, but somehow was.  

Rosalind watches him. “That must be for someone special.”

“It’s for my little girl,” he says, quietly. “To remind her where she came from.”


	8. Chapter 8

After the cops haul the would-be robbers to jail and they escape the clutches of the paramedics, Tim and Tony end up in the mall’s only restaurant that is still open. It’s a Tex-Mex place with sticky floors, Mexican flags, plastic cacti in every shape imaginable, and waiters in sombreros. Surprisingly, they have a rather impressive alcohol selection.

Tony sits at the bar, blankly watching bartender make their drinks, while Tim’s glazed eyes zone out to the Spanish soccer game on the television overhead. When the Spanish-speaking announcer wails, _Goal!,_ Tim pumps his fist like he’s actually rooting for the home team.

Moments later, a Scotch on the rocks lands in front of Tony. Even though he quit drinking a long time ago, it feels okay right now. It’s just one, he tells himself. He can handle just one. He takes a small sip while he tries not to look at the electric blue margarita that ends up in front of Tim.

“What?” Tim blurts out.

“Are _you_ really going to drink _that_?” Tony asks.

“Yeah, so what?” Tim squares his shoulders. “I happen to like them.”

Tony gestures at the glass that’s bigger than his fishes’ current home. “There is no way in hell that you can drink all of that.”

“I bet I can.” Tim takes a deep sip through the bright pink straw. “Maybe I’ll even get another one. Nothing takes the edge off nearly being murdered like tequila.”

Tony half-nods. “If you say so, McDrunk.”

While Toby nods like his friend is completely off his rocker, he reaches towards one of the bowls overflowing with tortilla chips. When he pops one into his mouth, he suddenly understands why they’re free. Even though they’re harder than hockey pucks and saltier than the ocean, he slides the bowl closer. Tim samples one, then chugs half of his margarita.

Watching his friend, Tony can’t help but smile. “Do you know how long It’s been since we’ve done this?”

“We just went to that bar last weekend, Tony.”

“No, not that. _This._ ” Tony gestures between them. “We haven’t done _this_ in a while.”

Tim’s brow furrows. “I don’t follow.”

Laughing, Tony pulls another sip of his Scotch. “Celebrated busting a bunch of dirt bags together.”

“And here I thought we were trying to take the edge off nearly getting our heads blown off by some guys who tried to rob a store.” When Tony frowns, Tim concedes: “But I guess we’re also celebrating like we used to after a big case.”

Before Tony has a chance to reply, a waiter drops off their food. Tony rips into his beef burrito with extra sour cream and cheese like it’s his last meal. Tim picks at his enchilada, dragging his fork through the gloopy sauce.

Tim tilts his head to give Tony the wall-eye.

It’s Tony’s turn to ask: “What?”

“Do you ever miss it?” Tim blurts out.  

“Working with the team? Oh yeah.”

Tim shakes his head, smiles. “No, I mean being an agent.”

Tony wants to tell Tim that he feels like he sacrificed a part of himself when he walked away from the job, but he can’t seem to find the words. His daughter, he told himself at the time, had to come first. And when it came to the worlds of family and the agency, he had convinced himself that he couldn’t have both.

That was before he realized the job comes as naturally to him as breathing. Before he understood that he wouldn’t be able to live the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he’s just tried to be the best father and the best agent that he could be.

“Every day,” Tony concedes.

Nodding, Tim turns back to his enchilada.

“You know, Tim, the director called me last week,” Tony says quietly. “He said the agency wasn’t really the same without me.” He licks his lips, looks away. “He offered me a job.”

Tim nearly chokes on his margarita. When he finally gets enough air, he gasps out: “You’re coming back? To the team?”

“Not quite.” Tony hazards a small smile. “Steve Barrows is retiring in January. It turns out the other MCRT is going to need an SAC. Vance asked how I’d feel about having my own team.”

Tim’s mouth hangs in a tiny ‘o’ before morphing into a huge grin. “Wow, Tony, that’s great news. Do you think you’re going to take it?”

Tony turns in his seat to face Tim. “After today, I just might.”

“That would be amazing. Everyone would be so glad to see you again. Abby talks about you all of the time. And so does Bishop. They miss you.” Even though he doesn’t say _I do too,_ Tony is pretty sure that it’s implied.

“Believe me, I know. They only e-mail me every other day.”

Tim calls for another margarita, then says: “So do you have any idea who’s going to be on your team? I heard Davenport is looking to transfer to Okinawa.”

Tony nods. “Vance said I would have to find myself another senior agent since she won’t be around much longer. I’ve already got my eye on someone.”

Tim deflates before Tony’s very eyes. “You’ve probably got a ton of files to look through, huh?”  

“You’re my first choice, McPessimist.” Laughing, Tony elbows Tim in the side. “Assuming you pass the formal interview, of course.”

Tim’s expression sours even further. “Come on, Tony. You’ve worked with me for – “

“Hey Agent McGee,” Tony interrupts, “do you think you have what it takes to be a senior field agent?”

Tim blinks slowly. “Of course. But – “

“Do you want a raise?”

“Who doesn’t?” he replies, shrugging.

“Will you have my six in and out of the field? And proofread all of my reports?”

“I always have and I always will.” Laughing, Tim tears into his new margarita as soon as it appears. “But you really need to learn the difference between _then_ and _than_.”

“I’ll try to work on that, promise. Other _then_ that, McSFA, you’re hired as soon as I get back.” Tony wipes his greasy hand on his napkin before offering it to Tim. After they shake on it, Tony lets his expression turns serious. “But your promotion is contingent on one thing.”

Tim’s face matches Tony’s. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Ask Delilah to marry you.”

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

Not long after dark, Tony creeps back into his apartment. It took a lot of work—and more than a few hours—for Tim to sleep off his three electric blue margaritas in the passenger seat of Tony’s car.

All of the lights are off, save for the lamp on the side table that burns just enough for him to see his way through the mounds of toys and dolls. His father sits on the couch, reading a book, with Tali curled against his chest, fast asleep.

When their eyes meet, Senior sighs inaudibly. He puts the book down and studies Tony for a long time as though he could see through the walls that Tony spent his whole life building. For once, Tony lets them fall, lets his father back in.

He runs his hand through his hair. “Dad…”

“You’ve decided to go back to work, didn’t you?” Senior whispers.

Tony nods. “I have to, Dad. For me.”

“What about Tali?”

His smile is quick, fleeting. “Who says I can't have both?”

Senior opens his mouth, but seems to think better of it. Careful not to wake Tali, he rises from the couch and heads over to meet Tony by the door.

He clasps his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You can, Junior. Tell me what you need and I’ll do whatever I can to help you achieve your dreams.”

Tony holds Senior’s gaze. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I haven’t always been there for you, son. But I’m not going anywhere now.”

After they share an awkward smile, Senior delicately transfers Tali into Tony’s outstretched hands. They say their quick goodbyes and Tony sees his father out. Tony plods down the hallway to Tali’s bedroom, careful to avoid the landmines of squeaky toys and baby dolls and plastic food.

Once they’re in her room, he cautiously lowers Tali into the crib. He stays there for a long time, watching the way her tiny chest rises and falls, the way her curls splay out, the way her pink footie pajamas look in the dark. Sometimes, he cannot believe that he helped make this beautiful, perfect creature.

He runs his finger along her cheek.

Half-asleep, she latches onto his hand. He freezes, unsure how to extricate himself without waking her up and causing another hour-long ordeal to get her back to bed.

Lost somewhere between dreams and the waking world, she looks up at him with glassy eyes.

His heart seizes.

_Christ, she looks just like her mother._

“Abba,” she slurs.

Pressing his free hand to his face, he chases away the tear that runs down his cheek. He doesn’t bother to chase it away either. Instead, he pushes the curls away from her face. Her dark eyes burn in the low light filtering through the blinds.

“Love Abba. Love my hero,” she whispers to herself.

Then nothing stops his tears from coming. He turns away so she won’t see them.

“Not yet, TeeTee, but soon. Soon, I’ll make you proud.” 


	9. Epilogue: Full Circle

**18 months later**

Even though it’s only nearing nine in the morning, Tony is already on his third cup of coffee and elbow-deep in finalizing last week’s report. He switches out the last _then_ for the correct _than_ as per Tim’s careful and hypervigilant—and not to mention, bitchy—notes before he hits the print button. While the printer whirrs away to itself, Tony rests his head on his hand as he stares out at the bullpen.

_Toto, we aren’t in the bullpen anymore. We’re in the ThinkTank now._

And it’s starting to feel a hell of a lot like home.

Three desks are pulled as far away from the cubicle walls a and clustered tightly together into a permanent campfire set-up. Here, the only thing he has to worry about is whether his team might trip on their way to their respective spaces. He doesn’t care if one of them does because the set up allows ideas to flow freely and gives his team an amazing energy that crackles like electricity. His solve rate is the highest of any fledgling Special Agent in Charge and his team’s morale is high, but the best part is that most nights he makes it home in time to have dinner with his dad and Tali.

After all those sleepless nights in the bullpen while on Gibbs’ team, Tony didn’t think it was possible to marry his professional and personal life.

He toys with the plain, white gold band he now wears on his right ring finger. The constant reminder of his life’s two greatest loves: his work and his daughter.

Somehow, he did. Somehow, he figured out how to have it all.  

Hazarding a small smile, Tony lets his gaze wander to the framed photos littered on his desk. Most are from that whirlwind trip he took through Europe with Tali before he returned to the agency. Even though she is far too young to remember it, the memory will always belong to him.

The images of her staring up in amazement at the Eiffel Tower and him pretending to throw her into the Seine should be his favorites, but they aren’t. Instead, it’s the simple one of her in a flower girl dress and him in a tux from Tim and Delilah’s wedding last year. They’re dancing together with her standing on his shoes. With the flowers in her dark curls and the white, tulle skirt, she is every bit the fulfillment of her dead mother’s childhood dream.

He reaches out to run his fingers over the image of Tali’s broad smile and crinkled eyes.

She looks more like her mother every day.

At least, Tony likes to think so. Ever since they parted ways in Tel Aviv, his memories of Ziva have slowly faded into nothing more than clips in an old movie reel. The scent of her shampoo. The feel of her hand cupping his cheek. The gentle sway of her hips when she would stride across the bullpen. The tone of her voice as she delivered her violent threats. The hellfire she passed on to their daughter.

He held onto a few pictures of Ziva before she left NCIS, scant David family heirlooms strong enough to survive the fire, her badge, pieces of her life. To many, they are seemingly meaningless things. To Tali, they are the only things she’ll ever know of her mother.

When she is old enough to understand, he’ll tell her their story.  

He just hopes to have it figured out by then.

They worked on the same team. They flirted. They were together just once. He loved her.

Tony’s eyes drag across the images of Tali again.

Actually, he thought he did. He had no idea what love really was until Tali came into his life.

He sets the photo back with the others.

Too much rumination for a Wednesday morning. Morose thoughts like these were once best done with a bottle of Scotch, an old black and white film, and a dark apartment. But ever since Tali showed up, personal nights no longer exist and she has brainwashed him into thinking Dora the Explorer and Doc MacStuffins are quality entertainment.

_And I wouldn’t change it for the world._

When the printer cuts out, Tony reaches for his report. He staples it together, then readies to drop it off with the director.

As if on cue, Tim wanders languidly into the ThinkTank with his backpack slung over his shoulder. His shirt is untucked, his pants wrinkled, and they look a hell of a lot like the clothes he wore yesterday. His eyes are unfocused as though he is lost in his own world. He holds a giant coffee cup in his hand, but Tony doubts he realizes that it’s even there.

Tony smiles, reaches for normalcy. “You showed up just in time, McGrammarNazi. Did you show up to proofread my report one more time before I turn it in?”

Tim looks over, clearly not expecting Tony to be there. “Oh hey, Boss. I didn’t think you’d be in so early.”

“It’s almost 9:30, Tim.” Tony checks his watch. “Mariah and Levi are already at the scene. Cheating Marine got caught on the wrong end of his wife’s M9.”

Tim blinks. “We’ve got a case?”

Even though Tony nods, Tim continues to his desk. He sits down on auto-pilot and starts booting up his computer. Tony slips out from behind his own, nearly wiping out when he threads himself through the ThinkTank needle.

He looms over Tim’s desk and rocks on his heels. “So how did that appointment go yesterday? You never called to let me know.” When Tim doesn’t reply, Tony tries a bit of humor: “And remember, I’m asking solely as your friend. Not as your boss who’ll need to figure out who’s going to put up with me while you’re out on paternity leave.”

“It worked.” Tim looks up, shell-shocked. “We’re pregnant.”

“That’s great news!” When Tim doesn’t move, Tony presses: “It is great news, isn’t it, Tim? You and Delilah have been saving up for IVF for a really long time.”

Tim nods. “It’s the best news we could’ve gotten. It worked perfectly. Everything went great. The embryo took and it…” he looks like he’s about to be sick “….split.”

“What does that mean?”

“Twins. Identical ones.”  

Tony gapes for a long moment. “Aren’t you two lucky?”

Tim’s distant smile turns terrified.

“That’ll be easy peasy,” Tony continues, flippantly.

“Yeah, easy peasy,” Tim repeats.

“Aren’t you excited?”

He nods. “I’m over the moon, but scared out of my mind. How can I feel both at the exact same time? The idea of one was great. But two? Holy cow.”

Tony decides not to tell Tim about all the sleepless nights he had with just one three-year-old. He would probably need to buy stock in Starbucks with twins.  

So he just slaps Tim’s back. “You’ll be great at being a dad, Tim. Just wait. If Tali can survive living with me so far, your kids will be fine with you and Delilah.”

Tim half-smiles. “Thanks, Tony.”

“What else am I here for?” Tony asks, shrugging. “Well, other than to make sure that you get your work done. Do you need some time before we head over?”

Blinking, Tim stares down at his desk like he isn’t quite sure how he got there. That’s when Tony notices the ultrasound picture in Tim’s hands. The one with two distinct circles against a jet black background. They’re labeled: Baby A and Baby B. Shapeless, faceless blobs that are terrifying enough to bring even the strongest man to his knees.

Tony points to Baby B. “That looks like an Anthony to me.”

Tim tries his best to laugh.

After one long look at the picture, he tucks it into the photo of him and Delilah from their wedding. Despite the fear in his eyes, he can’t help but grin at the sight of his growing family. Then he starts to gather his gear.

Tony starts to ask about the picture, but Tim beats him to the punch: “How was your night? Did you have another hot date?”

“We took apart Mr. Potato Head, rearranged his face, and then we made our own Play-Dough.” He cracks a grin. “Just don’t try to eat it because it tastes gross as Tali learned.”

Tim laughs. “You’ll have to teach me that recipe when the boys get here.”

“Boys?” Tony tilts his head. “How do you already know what you’re having?”

“The doctor tested the embryo before transfer. A little boy.” Shaking his head, he glances at the picture again. This time, he grins broadly. “Two perfect, little boys.”

“You’ll have the time of your life. She is still the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I know. As soon as it sinks in, I know it will be. Just until then…”

“Holy shit?”

Tim laughs. “Let’s try holy fucking shit.”

“Well, I think the best thing to do is take your mind off of it.” Tony heads back to his desk to gather his gear. “We’ve got work to do.”

With a quick nod, Tim grabs his gear and joins Tony on the other end of the Think Tank. They walk side-by-side towards the elevator. As soon as they reach it, the doors slide open.

They find themselves face to face with Jethro Gibbs.

Tony meets his former boss’ tired, haunted eyes. Somehow, Gibbs looks far older—more weary—than Tony remembers. His hair is still styled the same, his stance still unfaltering. But to someone who knows him as well as Tony, he is running himself into the ground while keeping up appearances.

“Hey Gibbs,” Tim says quietly.

Gibbs barely acknowledges them. “McGee. DiNozzo.”

Tony nods. “Boss.”

“Haven’t been your boss in a long time, DiNozzo,” he replies.

When Tim throws a glance down the hallway, Tony nods his blessing. After a quick _goodbye_ to Gibbs and an _I’ll have the car waiting, boss_ , Tim rabbits towards the stairs.

Gibbs and Tony remain staring at each other, neither one wanting to be the one to retreat first.  

“Been a long time period,” Tony says.

Gibbs starts to move around him.

“So after all those years, that’s it?” Tony blurts out.

Gibbs’ expression turns annoyed. “What do you expect from me, DiNozzo?”

Not sure himself, Tony shrugs. “How about a ‘how the hell are ya, Tony?’ Or ‘congrats on your team, Tony.’ Or maybe even, ‘I miss working with you.’” 

“Congrats on your team, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says flatly. “Happy now?”

Tony glances over his shoulder towards the bullpen. Here, it is nothing more than a shadow of what he remembers it to be. Suddenly, he realizes that old saying about how you can never go home again. That nothing is ever the same after you jump out of the next and spread your own wings for the first time.

“Do you even mean that, Gibbs?” Tony asks.

When Gibbs doesn’t say a word, Tony flicks his eyes back. They stare at each other, silently squaring off to see who will end the pissing match.

Tony is the first to fold. “Just once, Gibbs. I wish you would’ve been honest with me.”

Gibbs stays silent long enough to make Tony roll his eyes.

“Fine, whatever,” he growls. “I’ll see you around.”

He only makes it two steps before Gibbs says, “I was, Tony.”

When he turns around to face his former boss, Tony’s jaw tightens. But there is something in the way that Gibbs’ stance flags like grass under a blazing summer sun. Gibbs draws his arms to his chest. Vulnerability was never part of Gibbs’ repertoire and Tony barely recognizes it.

“You were what?” Tony asks.

“Honest with you.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“You were the biggest pain in the ass,” Gibbs says.

 Shaking his head, Tony turns to leave.  

“But you were also the best damned agent I ever worked with. I never knew why you stayed for as long as you did.”

“Maybe because I enjoyed working for you.” Tony makes a face at himself. “With you. Not to mention, I wanted to make you proud.”

Gibbs smiles slightly. “You always did, but I shouldn’t have had to tell you that.”

“It would’ve been nice to hear. Just once.”

“I was…” Gibbs shakes his head, closing the space between them. “I am proud of you, Tony. You do a great job with your team. You have a family. You did a helluva a lot better than I ever did.”

Tears sting at Tony’s eyes.

“You did damned good, kid. It’s just what I expected of you and more.” Gibbs claps his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Is that what you needed to hear?”

Tony half-smiles. “Yeah. Too bad it only took fourteen years.”

Gibbs presses his lips together. “I’m sorry I never said it before.”

“Did you forget about Rule Six?” Tony asks in mock horror.

Gibbs chuckles. “Rule Six B.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t be afraid to apologize when you’ve been an ass.”

“That’s DiNozzo Rule Fifteen, boss.”

“Not your boss anymore, Tony.” Gibbs squeezes Tony’s shoulder. “You’re the boss now.”

When Gibbs takes his hand away, he gives Tony one long, appraising look. And it’s in the moment that Tony recognizes the look in his former boss’ eyes. It’s the same one he wore when Tony first arrested him in Baltimore. And when Tony beat the plague. And when Tony would scrabble together random tidbits of information into a plausible theory to make an arrest.

_He always was proud of me._

“Thanks Gibbs,” Tony says.

Unable to believe that he was wrong, Tony starts into the elevator. He is just about there when Gibbs calls out, “Tony.”

He turns back. “Yeah?”

“I do miss working with you.” Regret lights up Gibbs’ eyes. “Every damned day.”  

 


End file.
